


Dante Makes a Mistake

by Anonymous



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Bottom Dante (Devil May Cry), Doppelganger Sex, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex in Devil Trigger, Top Vergil (Devil May Cry), Twincest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 06:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Holy shit, I have the best idea,” Dante says, as if he’s just solved the greatest mysteries of the human world, voice low and excited. Vergil hums against his shoulder in response, clearly listening, but only half paying attention.“Okay, hear me out,” Dante continues, looping his fingers with Vergil’s on his stomach and turning his head to press a kiss to his twin’s jaw. Against his cheek he whispers: “doppelgänger sex.”





	Dante Makes a Mistake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lovely_Silhouette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovely_Silhouette/gifts), [Heading2DanVer (Cerberus_Brulee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberus_Brulee/gifts), [vorokis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorokis/gifts).

> I said I'd write this 7098098 years ago and guess what, I was cleaning up my gdocs and decided today was the day. I did it. I wrote it.
> 
> This is a product of the terrible degenerates in the Spardacest discord server, who came up with the scenario and the scenes that I then mashed together into one big mess. We had this conversation like two months ago, I wouldn't be surprised if none of you remember it, but I do, I remember it, and I wrote it. Finally. Just for you.
> 
> I didn't beta this and I cannot bring myself to post it off Anon it is just Too Horny. I gift this mess to the <strike>two</strike> three people I remember contributing to that conversation, if I missed someone I am v sorry, please let me know I'll gift it to you, too.

“Holy shit, I have the best idea,” Dante says, as if he’s just solved the greatest mysteries of the human world, voice low and excited. Vergil hums against his shoulder in response, stroking Dante’s bare stomach, fingers trailing up his abs and massaging gently into the firm flesh. They are tangled in bed, sweat soaked and basking in the pleasant afterglow of sex; Vergil’s chest is pressed flat to his back, cock going soft inside of him, though neither have made an effort to move to clean themselves up. No point, really—it’s their day off, and they’ll spend it the way they do most free days, which is to say lounging around the shop and fucking each other senseless.

In his defense, there’s a lot of that he hasn’t gotten to do in his lifetime, and Dante’s not a man to waste time now that he’s got it.

“Okay, hear me out,” Dante continues, looping his fingers with Vergil’s on his stomach and turning his head to press a kiss to his twin’s jaw. Against his cheek he whispers: “doppelgänger sex.”

The laugh this rips out of Vergil’s throat makes him jolt inside of Dante, sending a flicker of heat through his belly, and he wiggles his hips back against his twin in response, transforming the laughter into a low moan. Serves him right for laughing—he’s being serious here.

“Are you really serious?” Vergil responds once he’s regained his composure, as if he’s read Dante’s mind, and Dante shimmies forward, freeing himself from Vergil’s grip and slipping him out in the process. It earns him a frustrated grumble until he turns around in his brother’s arms, pushing him onto his back so he can climb atop him and straddle his hips. 

“Absolutely. Think it’d work?” He asks, leaning down to begin peppering kisses to Vergil’s chest and clavicle, brushing his tongue across Vergil’s nipple to earn himself another little grunt. Dante rocks gently on top of Vergil, cock already half-hard against his abs, and his twin clutches his hips in response with an annoyed huff, stopping his motions. 

“You are insatiable,” he mumbles, and Dante can tell from the devilish gleam in Vergil’s eyes that he’s running the numbers here, mentally calculating if this would work. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t. The replication follows whatever command I’ve given it upon its creation until it’s either dismissed or defeated.”

This Dante can attest to personally—he’s had his ass kicked by that thing enough times since Vergil came home that he’s pretty acutely aware of how relentless it is.

Which, shit. Maybe he should reconsider this, but Vergil’s looking at him in that determined, curious way of his that tells Dante he’s going to become single-minded in his pursuit of this power over him, and he knows that now that he’s given him the idea there’s no backing out. Better just lean into it, then.

“Let’s try it,” Dante says, folding himself forward so he can rest his weight on Vergil’s chest and press a sloppy kiss to his mouth. His twin hums again and opens his mouth to the needy and incessant probing of Dante’s tongue, and he takes that as his agreement before they lose themselves in each other’s embrace.

—-  
To be honest, Dante’d forgotten about the whole doppelgänger sex thing until he’d come home from a job one evening two weeks later and found Vergil sitting in the armchair of their shared bedroom, book in one hand and a coil of rope in the other. He’s dressed in as close as he gets to casual wear—black slacks, blue button down with the top two buttons undone, and fingerless black leather gloves. Across from him, his doppelgänger sits on the end of the bed, legs crossed in a mirror of Vergil’s current pose, looking all the more intimidating for the fact Vergil is currently in his human form and it, of course, is not. 

Jesus, he didn’t really think about how big that thing was when he’d made the suggestion.

“Hey, Verg. What’s the occasion?” Dante says as he shrugs off his gun harness and drops his pistols on the dresser, acting for all intents and purposes like Vergil’s not clearly here to put whatever devious plan he’s concocted into action. His brother looks up from his book and cocks an eyebrow, lips pulled up in a small smirk. 

“I’ve been experimenting, and I’ve come to the conclusion that yes, it would work,” Vergil says, closing the book and setting it on the arm of the chair before getting to his feet. He closes the distance between them quickly, pulling Dante into his arms and trapping him in a simmering kiss, tongue forcing between Dante’s lips to steal his breath away. Vergil wastes no time in beginning to undress him, his hands slipping up under Dante’s jacket to slide it off his shoulders and onto the floor, his fingers deftly working to remove the belt from his jeans before Dante can even catch up to what’s going on.

He breaks the kiss with a deep sigh, stilling his twin’s hands on his waist to buy himself a moment to process what is even happening. Vergil’s been experimenting with, what, the doppelgänger? 

Wait. Oh, he remembers now.

“Okay, right. _That_,” Dante says with a breathy laugh, “didn’t realize you were gonna take me seriously on that, Verg.” 

His twin rolls his eyes in response and proceeds to pull his shirt off, quick and efficient as always. Dante lets him--raises his arms and twists enough that he can pry the sweat-damp henley from his back with minimal effort--and the cool air hitting his too-warm skin makes him shudder. This might’ve been his idea, but, shit. How is it even supposed to work?

“Does it even have a dick?” Dante asks and Vergil stares at him like he’s gone mad.

“It is an exact replica,” he says, stepping back from Dante to analyze him with a quick sweep of his pale gray eyes. He’s still holding the coil of thin rope in his right hand and Dante gestures to it, raising an eyebrow.

“And that’s necessary?” 

“No,” Vergil intones, lifting the rope as if he’s just remembered that he’s holding it himself. “But I thought it would be more interesting this way.”

_Interesting_ isn’t a notion he’s exactly thrilled to hear Vergil express--this is the man who stabbed him through the heart with the Rebellion because it was _interesting_ to see him transform. If Dante’s learned anything, it’s that Vergil’s idea of “interesting” normally means that he’s going to have a bad time.

He gets the feeling that there’s really no backing out of this now, and if he’s honest with himself, he’s curious. Vergil’s not exactly the one to take control in these things, content to simply follow whatever whims cross Dante’s mind, happy so long as Dante is happy. For him to take this idea and run with it is both unusual and exciting, so with a deep breath Dante decides to play along.

“Okay,” he says, letting Vergil take him by the shoulders and turn him around, setting about the process of tying the rope around his chest and arms before fastening it to some fixed point on the ceiling (a fixture installed back when Dante’d still bothered trying to have sex with humans--turns out a little bondage goes a long way to keep his inner demon in check). There’s something incredibly sensual about the feeling of the rope sliding over his bare skin, the gentle and deft press of Vergil’s fingers as he works to wind the nylon around Dante’s chest. By the time his brother has finished binding his arms at his back he’s already painfully aroused, cock hard against the inside of his jeans and face and chest visibly flushed.

Vergil spins him back around to face him, surveying his handiwork with a clinical eye. The rope is thin, scarlet nylon, and even Dante has to admit that the complicated pattern Vergil’s laced over his chest is visually appealing. It is also effective--his arms are pinned at the middle of his back, rendering them immobile, and while he’s not exactly hanging from the ceiling, he definitely can’t step from this spot. It would be an easy thing for him to break free, if he wanted, but his heart hasn’t gotten that memo, apparently: the feeling of surrendering his control makes his pulse pound in his head on double-time.

“Where’d you even learn how to do that,” Dante mutters, impressed with the deftness and precision with which Vergil bound him. His twin simply shrugs, a sharp, knowing smile gracing his lips, and the question is forgotten as he pulls Dante by the center of rope on his chest into a bruising kiss. 

He’s not expecting it when the doppelgänger appears behind him, nor when claws dig into his hips, and he jumps, letting out a muffled yelp into Vergil’s mouth. Fear spikes through him, his brain screaming at him to get away and break free, to escape the threat at his back, but Vergil rests a hand on the base of his skull and gently squeezes his neck, sending warmth down his spine that slowly blossoms through his chest. It makes him immediately go slack and submissive beneath his brother’s touch, an automatic, instinctual response he’s picked up over their months together. When Vergil breaks the kiss, Dante is breathing slowly and steadily, perfectly in time with his twin.

The doppelgänger isn’t moving at his back, although it’s claws are still sunk ever so slightly into Dante’s hips. It stings, a strange sensation blending the physical pain of it breaking skin and the tingling prickle of pure energy that radiates from the replica. He wonders what its cock will feel like inside of him, if that same tingling of pure demonic power will come from that, too. The thought makes his dick twitch—pressed against him as he is, there’s no way Vergil doesn’t notice.

He smiles. 

“Don’t ruin my hard work,” Vergil says, pulling on the ropes just enough to make them tug at Dante's arms, the muscles in his shoulders twitching in discomfort. He leans forward and nips at Dante’s ear while he hooks deft fingers into the front of his pants, unbuttoning them with torturously slow movements. Once his pants have been undone, the replica pulls them down while his brother slides his hands down his hips and legs, the chill in his fingers and the smooth, worn leather of his gloves sliding over his skin making goosebumps rise on his thighs. It’s immediately, intensely overwhelming to have them both touching him at once. The sigh that escapes his lips quivers with his need, shaky and barely contained. 

“Hoooly shit,” he breathes out through clenched teeth. He steps out of his jeans clumsily, lightheaded with desire and off balance with his arms tied between his back. Naked and exposed, he is vulnerable to Vergil’s appraising, almost predatory gaze as he inspects the entirety of him. His attention lingers on Dante’s cock, already hard and leaking precum against his abs, and the smile that crosses his face is full of too many teeth. 

“You’re so eager,” he purrs, stepping into Dante’s space again to trail his fingers up the length of him, feather light brushes that make Dante shudder and gasp. When he tries to cant his hips forward into that touch, the replica holds him firmly in place, preventing him from seeking any release from the building pressure. It’s dizzying. 

“Mmm, yeah. What can I say, I like it when you boss me around.”

Vergil huffs a laugh, the ghost of his breath teasing across Dante’s neck as he withdraws. He is forced to bite the inside of his cheek to tamp down the whine that tries to work its way out of him at being denied Vergil’s touch. It’s too early in this for him to be downright begging for it—let his brother work for that a little harder first.

His twin steps back once more, admiring his handiwork for a moment before pacing to the side of their bed, rummaging in the night stand for the lube Dante knows is stashed there. The doppelgänger traces a clawed hand down the curve of his spine beneath his bound arms to the cleft of his ass and he hisses, skin tingling from the sharp touch—it is somehow both icy cold and scorching hot at once, and it sparks a tingling sensation that creeps across his skin and sets his nerves on fire.

When Vergil returns with the bottle of lube, they switch positions, the doppelgänger circling around to stand before Dante while his brother grabs his hips from behind. Dante tries not to squirm too much when Vergil begins tracing his slicked fingers down his spin and across the curve of his ass, teasing and taunting as he draws a sticky, messy line of lube across Dante’s lower back.

“Are you going to do something back there or what?” Dante says, rocking his hips back against Vergil’s hands, bumping into his thigh with how close Vergil is standing behind him. Vergil takes the hint, gripping Dante’s hip with one hand and pressing one thin, lube-slicked finger inside of him up to the knuckle. His twin is devastatingly good at this, precise and purposeful in every movement as he pushes his fingers inside and stretches Dante, pace merciless in its deconstruction of Dante’s composure.

Vergil snarls behind him, clamping sharp teeth down on the nape of Dante’s neck, his breath hot over Dante’s spine. He can’t help the way it makes his legs go weak, the way he grinds back into Vergil’s hand, desperately seeking friction. His pace is slow and purposeful, languid in the way he pushes past Dante’s barriers and spreads him open with gentle and firm caresses. When he crooks his fingers to rub against his prostrate, Dante keens, grinding back against Vergil’s hand, desperate for more. 

Before him, the doppelgänger latches onto his hips, holding him steady and limiting his movements. It cuts off what little relief Dante was able to gain from fucking himself back onto his brother’s hand and he whines and jerks his hips in frustration. 

“_Fuck_, Verg, you’re such a goddamn tease,” Dante hisses, the words devolving into incoherent moans as his brother presses a fourth finger inside of him and heat sizzles along his skin. 

“I’m only looking out for you, little brother,” Vergil whispers into the back of Dante’s hair, and fuck, he’s never going to get used to that tone in Vergil’s voice, low and husky and dark with lust. It makes Dante’s dick twitch and his mouth go dry, an instant aphrodisiac, and he tries once more to grind back onto Vergil’s hands. The doppelgänger doesn’t let him then, either, and so he’s at the mercy of Vergil’s pace, the press of his fingers as he stretches and preps Dante for the considerably larger intrusion that is his demon form’s dick.

Dante’s eyes drift down to the doppelgänger’s crotch on reflex, unable to resist. They’ve had sex in their demon forms before, he’s pretty familiar with their… anatomy down there, but that doesn’t stop him from ha wing to swallow around a thickness that’s gotten lodged in the back of his throat in anticipation. 

He pushes back whatever second thoughts he’s having about this by tilting his head back, resting it on his brother’s shoulder, and offering him the most wanton grin and moan he can muster. Vergil stiffens, then shifts his attention to Dante’s throat, teeth sinking into the soft skin at the curve of his neck with a low growl.

“What’s your role in all this, huh? I’ve got a few suggestions,” Dante starts, before Vergil both curves his fingers and bites down at once, derailing Dante’s attempts at dirty talk. For a man four fingers deep in their twin’s ass, he’s such a prude.

“I think I’ll simply observe. It can be a test to your nonexistent limits,” Vergil whispers into the side of Dante’s throat, against his pulse point, and it’s not even remotely sexy, what he says, except now he’s thinking about Vergil watching him get fucked into the floor by his doppelgänger and his dick has become acutely interested in that. Vergil’s gaze is piercing, watching Dante’s every move and picking him apart like prey, and he knows that all it’s going to take is Vergil’s attention being focused squarely on him for him to completely lose it.

With a deep breath he reins in his composure, tilting his head to press a kiss to Vergil’s jaw. His twin takes the invitation and kisses him, the coppery tang of his own blood on his brother’s tongue sending a shiver down his spine. Engaged in the kiss, he loses track of Vergil’s hands, and so when Vergil pulls out of him he’s not expecting it, gasping in surprise at the sudden and abrupt feeling of being empty.

He’s not given much time to mourn the loss before there’s the sound of the bottle of lube opening once more and he’s suddenly being filled with the cool, sticky wetness of far more lubricant than is comfortable. He wiggles, gasping his surprise into the press of his brother’s mouth even as the sensation makes him even more painfully aroused.

Dante breaks from the kiss to suck in a great gasp of air, head swimming with want. “Fuck me, jesus christ, Vergil.”

His brother laughs.

There’s a flash of blue light before Dante finds himself being yanked forcibly back into the grip of the doppelgänger, pressed against the armored plates on its thighs and hips. The prick of its claws into his hips and the feeling of its decidedly inhuman flesh against his backside makes his inner demon howl with excitement, a sound that ends up slipping out of his mouth when the damn thing slides the tip of its cock into him without so much as a warning.

“_Shit._”

It’s dizzying and for a moment neither of them move, Dante leaning into the ropes that bind him for a little extra support, letting himself slowly adjust to the new sensation. He glances up through his eyelashes while he catches his breath and gets his bearings straight to see that Vergil is sitting cross legged in his reading chair, that damn smirk of his on his face as he watches Dante squirm.

“Bastard,” Dante says, and Vergil just shrugs, reaching for his book.

“Enjoy yourself, Dante,” Vergil responds, eyes firmly focused on the pages of whatever stupid poetry collection he’s reading now. “This was your idea, after all.”

Before he can come up with an appropriately bitchy response, the doppelgänger slowly thrusts into him, a shallow twitch of its hips that commands all of Dante’s attention as he struggles to stay on his feet. The burn is so good, pain and pleasure a heady cocktail that his demon lives for, the teasing thrusts sending shivers rippling down his spine.

There’s only one problem with the whole thing, and that’s that Vergil is straight up _ignoring_ him, something that Dante cannot let stand.

The bastard won’t even look at him, let alone touch him, and that is definitely Not Okay in Dante’s book. On the next thrust from the demonic replica at his back, he moans so loudly it damn near shakes the windows, spreading his legs and leaning into the rope that holds him upright to make sure all of his best assets are on display. Vergil’s eyes snap up from his book almost immediately, pupils wide and lips slightly parted. Dante grins at him. 

“Come on, that book can’t be--” another thrust and he has to stop to moan, god, he’s still not used to the size, the stretch that hurts as much as it feels good, burning it’s way up his spine. “Can’t be more interesting than this.”

“Of course not,” Vergil says, “but someone must teach you some patience.”

Oh, fuck that. The next word out of Dante’s mouth is said with as much lewd implication as he can, a whine more than a word, low and breathy and specially tailored to break all of Vergil’s barriers in one fell swoop:“Vergil.”

He says his brother’s name like it’s a prayer and a curse both, and he knows it works, because Vergil basically growls back in response, an involuntary noise deep in his chest. Catering to Vergil’s possessive and dominating nature is a surefire way to earn every bit of his attention, Dante’s learned, and he wields that knowledge as effectively as any devil arm, putting on a submissive display and arching into the replica’s touch like he’s dying for it.

Vergil sits his book to the side, and Dante is filled with vicious glee at having his brother’s eyes trained on him again. Vergil leans back in the leather arm chair, long legs spread and hands resting on his thighs, simply admiring the view. “You’re unbearable.”

Dante laughs. “God, your bedroom talk s-still needs some work.”

Vergil rolls his eyes, then licks his lips, and Dante stares, transfixed, at the flash of pink that is his tongue sweeping along his bottom lip. What he wouldn’t give to feel Vergil’s tongue on his cock right now, the warm, wet heat of his mouth as he sucks Dante dry, choking on Dante’s cock and the brutal pace set by his own replica.

That’s not what he gets from his brother, but that’s alright, because instead he watches, mesmerized, as one of Vergil’s hands slides from his thigh to palm at his own erection through the front of his leather pants. 

_Shit._

“I take it you’re enjoying the show, then,” Dante says, spreading his legs a little more, jerking his hips forward with the momentum of the next lazy thrust of the doppelgänger, his cock jutting out with the movement. He knows he makes an absolutely obscene image, leans into it with a low moan. Vergil’s eyes snap to his erection with laser focus, lips drifting apart in an almost inaudible sighed breath of his own, and Dante watches with delight as Vergil grasps his own cock through his pants.

“Oh fuck yeah.” Dante whines, bucking back into the steady thrusts of the doppelgänger. It’s like having a big, moving dildo shoved up his ass for all the character the thing expresses, but where it lacks in personality it makes up for it in inexhaustible persistence. Every thrust has been perfectly even and measured, a constant staccato rhythm that’s rocking in time with Dante’s pulse thundering in his ears. It’s not moving fast or deep enough to get Dante off just yet, but it’s enough to set his nerves on fire, a liquid heat beginning to coil low in his stomach. That Vergil’s putting on a show of his own is really the icing on top of the proverbial cake. 

As if reading his thoughts, Vergil unzips the front of his pants, shifting his hips to give himself a little more room to slip his cock free. He’s already so goddamn hard, tip red and shiny with precum, and when he grasps himself and leans back into his chair, dragging his fist up and down in slow, long pumps, Dante almost wails with want. He’s gorgeous, the perfect image of languid, lazy self indulgence, and fuck, _fuck_, debauchery is a good look on him.

“Shit, Verg, look at you,” Dante starts, but then his train of thought is disrupted by a clawed hand resting on his belly and the doppelgänger thrusting into him harder, deeper, and the pain and pleasure explode white hot in his senses. This isn’t the first time he’s been fucked by Vergil’s demon form, but it catches him off guard anyway, the stretch and the sharp burn as his body struggles to accommodate the sudden girth inside of him. He clenches down and moans and tries to hang on to his senses enough to enjoy the sight of his brother, cock in hand and legs spread wide, slowly jerking himself off to the display of Dante being fucked out of his mind by a mirror image of himself. 

His brother is a goddamn narcissist, watching a version of his demon form fucking his identical twin brother, and if Dante could find words, he’d mock him for it just to get a rise out of him. Instead, he dissolves into barely choked back moans and small gasps, watching with intense focus as Vergil bites at his lip and slowly coaxes himself toward release.

The sound of Nero’s voice calling to them from the lobby gives them both pause—Dante is ripped out of it first, the replica unaffected by the interruption, maintaining its slow and steady pace as it thrusts into him. Vergil rises from his chair with a huff of annoyance. On some level, Dante can’t believe Vergil’s going to actually go deal with it, but then he remembers the last time they ignored Nero and the expense of the door he’d had to replace (not to mention how he’d had to hear Nero complain about walking in on Dante sucking his old man’s cock for like two months after), and decides maybe it’s for the better. 

Vergil manages to scrape his composure back together, fastening his pants and straightening his vest, but there’s a blush high on his cheeks that makes Dante’s demon purr in delight. He likes that Vergil’s going to be visibly showing the signs of what Dante is doing to him.

There’s another shout from downstairs and the sound of heavy boots on the stairs. Dante bites his lip.

“Goddammit,” Dante hisses, burying a moan beneath his exclamation of annoyance. “I swear he-he has the worst timing.”

“Wait for me,” Vergil says, as he walks to Dante’s side to hold his face in his hand, fingers digging into his cheeks possessively as he tilts Dante’s head up to look him in the eye. The doppelgänger thrusts into him in that precise moment, hits him in that sweet, delicate spot inside of him and he gasps in shock and pleasure, but his brother holds firm. “I want to watch you come undone, little brother.”

“Verg—ah, _shit,_” another thrust, a ripple of heat through his belly and he’s left reeling, seeing stars on the edges of his vision. “Don’t you leave me like this you _bastard_.”

Vergil simply smiles as he slips from the room, the door latching shut behind him.

—  
“Nero. Is there something you need?” Vergil does not bother to mask the obvious annoyance in his voice at his son’s sudden intrusion into what should have otherwise been a nice, _private_ night alone with his brother. Nero is standing in the middle of the shop, arms crossed and looking just as annoyed as Vergil feels, which is bothersome. He has no interest in dealing with whatever thing Dante has done to upset his son this time. 

“Where the hell is Dante? That asshole owes me for that job he made me take last week,” Nero says, and Vergil rolls his eyes. It’s obviously a thinly veiled excuse to drop in and spend “quality family time,” but his timing is, as always, atrocious.

“He’s preoccupied right now,” Vergil responds, walking to the center of the lobby to rifle through his brother’s desk. There is cash here somewhere, he’s seen Dante use it to pay for the food he gets delivered to the shop. If that is all Nero wants, then hopefully he will leave with no fuss if he’s paid. 

“You better not have done anything to him,” Nero says suspiciously, distrustful of Vergil’s motives even still, months after his return. Vergil rolls his eyes and does not bother to hide his smirk as he hands Nero a random assortment of bills from Dante's desk. His son stares at this for a minute, brow pinched, before he shoves it into his coat pocket. 

“I assure you, he’s fine,” Vergil says, and as if to punctuate his words there is a loud, inhuman growl from the second floor. Nero visibly freezes, eyes drifting to the staircase and hand flexing in preparation to draw his weapon. 

“The fuck was—“

There is another growl, this time more like a moan; the sound makes Vergil’s stomach clench and his dick twitch in the confines of his leather pants. He bites down on his tongue and turns once more to Nero. 

“Are we finished here?”

Nero's eyes snap to Vergil’s face, scanning his expression for a moment before color flushes high in his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. Vergil is surprised it has taken him this long to catch on—Nero’s demonic instincts must be far worse than Vergil ever anticipated. 

“Uh, shit, I-I guess I’ll stop by later, then,” Nero says, and as he walks to the door there is another roar, the windows rattling with its intensity. It sounds suspiciously like Vergil’s name, and that makes his own demon sing in delight, coiled in his mind and waiting to claim what’s his.

The look on his son’s face as he slams the front door shut is worth the interruption.

Poised to return to the second floor, Vergil instead pauses, his hand resting on the banister. Hmm. Perhaps he can use this disruption to his advantage. 

His little brother does so hate to be ignored.

—  
Vergil is gone far longer than is necessary to toss Nero out of the shop and during that entire time the damn doppelgänger never once lets up, fucking him as relentlessly as it fights. He’s already come enough times it’s pushing the point past pleasure and in to pain, his orgasm ripped out of him with an inhuman roar, and his chest and abs are smeared with cum and sweat, his legs going numb and useless beneath him. The replica slides it’s clawed hands up and down his sides, trailing its talons over his ribs and hips, and he shudders and whines at the touch. Everything is too sensitive, turning every touch and thrust blinding, overwhelming with its intensity.

He’s almost triggered twice already, but every time he feels himself careening over that edge, he remembers the sound of Vergil’s voice, instructing him not to break his bondage, and he’s managed to beat back the instinct. It’s left him dizzy, teetering on the razor thin edge of too much and not enough, both halves of him utterly ruined by the relentless attention he’s receiving at the hands of his brother’s infernal doppelgänger. 

When the door opens to the bedroom once more, Dante cries out involuntarily, annoyance and want and frustration mangling together into a barely human whine. His teeth sharpen in his mouth at the sight of Vergil, but he’s too goddamn tired to hold it for very long, and he’s fully human again when his brother returns to his side. 

“My apologies, Dante. I became… distracted,” Vergil says, and Dante’s distantly aware of the way Vergil is inspecting his cum-slicked abs and the absolutely filthy wetness that trails down his thighs. The look on his face is predatory, eyes limned red and scales creeping along his neck and chin. He breathes out through his teeth. “Look at you.” Vergil bends down, fisting a hand in the back of Dante’s hair, forcing his head up. “I hope you haven’t worn yourself out already.”

He doesn’t give Dante a chance to respond, not that he thinks he could, his thoughts scattered in a blissed out haze of pleasure as they are. Vergil uses his grip in Dante’s hair to pull him into a kiss, tongue forcing its way into Dante’s mouth, warm and wet and tasting of the black cherry tea that he always drinks. Dante could bite him, would bite him, if he had any energy left--the bastard went and made _tea_.

“I want to see you come,” Vergil says when he breaks away, voice soft and oh so sweet as he cups Dante’s head in his hands and presses kisses to his brow. Dante’s not even sure he’s got it left in him, yet who is he to disobey a command from his brother, and the words hit him like a shot to the heart and he’s hurtling over the edge of orgasm again. His entire body shakes with the effort of it and he whines, pressing his head against Vergil’s mouth, desperate for any contact from his twin. Words fail him in this moment, his thoughts too jumbled to form into coherent sentences, and he moans and whines and sobs into Vergil’s hands as the replica thrusts into him with unwavering determination, undeterred by Dante’s orgasm.

“You are so beautiful,” Vergil purrs, stroking his hands through Dante’s hair, pulling the sticky and sweat soaked strands away from his face. He looks over Dante’s shoulder to the doppelgänger and nods once, and the brutal pace of its thrusts slows to an occasional twitch of its hips against Dante’s ass. Vergil slips his fingers under Dante’s chin, forcing his head to rise. 

“Look at me, Dante,” he says, and fuck, it’s so hard, his head is swimming from the overstimulation and everything hurts; he’s nearly gone numb from the position he’s been hanging in. He somehow manages to lift his head with the guidance of Vergil’s hands and he forces his eyes open against the heavy weight that’s settled over them. 

His twin is looking at him with such sweet, pure, and undeniable love that it makes a quiet, hoarse whine slip from the sore and ruined wreck of his throat. He is weak to that tenderness, and Vergil knows it, knows that this is affecting him nearly as much as the demonic cock splitting him open. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, smoothing his hands down the back of Dante’s head and neck, digging his fingertips gently into his aching shoulders in soothing little circles. The question is momentarily confusing, and he can’t focus on it with Vergil’s hands on him and the replica still at his back; rather than attempt to articulate a response, he whines low in his throat again, wishing Vergil would touch him. Worry creases Vergil’s brow at his lack of an answer, and he asks again, holding Dante’s head in his hands once more to keep his eyes focused on his face. 

Against all odds he manages to gasp out a breathy “Yeah,” resting the full weight of his head into Vergil’s palms. His twin kisses him again, a quick and gentle press of lips to his, before he backs up. 

“What do you need, little brother?” Vergil asks, and Dante knows exactly what he needs—Vergil, the real Vergil, pressed against him and inside of him, warm and firm at his back and arms around his chest. He craves that feeling of completeness, to be held in his brother’s embrace and showered with his affection. He would say this if he could, would wax poetic for Vergil the way he knows he likes, but he’s struggling to make the connection between brain and words, and so he settles for brevity. 

“You,” he gasps, twitching and moaning when the replica thrusts into the overly sensitive spot inside of him once more, punctuating his pleas with his cries. “Please.”

Vergil doesn’t waste any time after that, dismissing the doppelgänger with a flick of his wrist despite the fact it is still buried deep inside of Dante. The sudden shock of being empty makes him buck and cry out, his insides clenching around air and the phantom feeling of being full rippling through him; it’s decidedly unpleasant and it makes him ache for his twin all the more. He dissolves into pitiful cries and pleas, whining into Vergil’s ear as he takes him into his arms so he can support his weight while he cuts him down. There’s a flare of demonic energy from him and then the rope binding his arms high up his back has been severed; without Vergil to catch him, he’d collapse to the ground as a shivering, incoherent mess. 

His brother lifts him into his arms easily, despite Dante being unable to actively participate in the act of moving him from the center of the room to their bed. His legs are useless, dead weight supported only by Vergil’s arm beneath his knees, and he finds he can’t even lift his arms to wrap them around his neck. Instead he just flops against his chest with a purr, allowing himself to be carried and carefully set in the bed, the soft coos of Vergil’s meaningless platitudes keeping him from slipping into wonderful slumber. 

He lies in a blissed out haze while Vergil undresses, stripping down naked before slipping into bed behind Dante. The palms of his hands are so smooth and gentle as they rub up and down his back, curving around his shoulders to pull Dante flush against his chest. 

“Are you sure?” Vergil asks, the hard length of him pressed against Dante’s abused backside. Words fail him again, but that doesn’t stop him from slowly rolling back against Vergil’s cock, whining quietly into the crook of his arm. It’s enough of an invitation that his twin no longer hesitates, pushing into him with ease before settling into a slow, but forceful rhythm, seeking out his own pleasure with a focused determination.

Vergil takes him on his side, and he’s too exhausted to move or participate past his quiet moans, the shudder that ripples up his spine when his twin comes. He presses kisses to the back of Dante’s neck and shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down his chest and abs as if to worship him, feeling every taut muscle and gently raised scar with reverence. It’s wonderful and Dante sighs in contentment, slowly and achingly rolling himself over so he can press his face against his twin’s neck. Every inch of him is burning with pain, muscle spasms wracking his shoulders and lower back from the constant pressure he has endured, throat raw from his moaning and cries of pleasure. Vergil’s cum leaks out of him when he moves, a hot and sticky mess that mingles with the blood and the lube that already trails down the back of his thighs, and he thinks, _fuck, I need a bath_ just as the sleepy haze of unconsciousness starts at slowly eat at his vision.

“Sleep now, brother,” Vergil whispers, holding him close and burying his face into his hair, and with his permission Dante finally allows himself to fall into the pleasant nothingness of slumber. 

—-  
He’s out of commission for nearly two days afterward, demonic healing be damned—the bed is now his permanent home and he refuses to leave it. He sleeps for most of it, a contented on and off dozing that’s similar to the sated sleep he gets after his more difficult fights. During that time Vergil dotes on him, showers him with affection and love; he bathes him the first time he wakes, scrubs the lube and cum and sweat off of his skin and massages the pain out of his back and shoulders. On the second day he’s woken in the afternoon to pizza in bed, the rarest treat of them all, and Vergil even stays with him, eats the shitty cheap delivery without a single complaint.

“Feeling guilty?” Dante asks, amused by his brother’s uncharacteristic tenderness. Vergil scoffs and finishes his slice of pizza, carefully and meticulously wiping the grease from his fingers into a napkin. Dante's filled with the overwhelming urge to reach out and trail his own grease-coated hand across Vergil’s chest, just to get a rise out of him, but he stops himself. No point ruining a good thing, and the spoiling he’s been getting is definitely a good thing. 

“Absolutely not,” Vergil replies, tossing the napkin at Dante’s head, which he catches easily before dropping it into the mostly empty pizza box. Could’ve fooled him. 

“Suuuuuure,” Dante drawls, dropping back into bed to watch his brother from a distance. “So, I’ve been wondering… when you said you ‘experimented’ with the doppelgänger… did you, y’know...”

He does not miss the very subtle flush of color that graces the tips of his twin’s ears, gone as quick as it came, and he busies himself with cleaning up their mess with such focused determination that Dante gets all of the confirmation he could possibly need.


End file.
